dreaming through the twilight
by Watanabe Maya
Summary: "Ash?" Eiji calls out once more, a quiet voice pregnant with meaning. A question, imploring. "No, I'm not your Ash," he hears the other boy say, and the older man feels just the slightest tug of disappointment weighing down on his chest as he curses himself for hoping otherwise. "I'm just the reaper." \\ AshEiji. Oneshot. Shinigami!AU


i meant to post this five months ago but here we are now im so sorry i have no excuse

in other news, big thanks to my homegirl E for being my beta. i hope you guys enjoy this long overdue work of mine.

disclaimer: i don't own banana fish

* * *

**dreaming through the twilight**

§§

_You are memory wound like clockwork; a photograph made more vivid at the mercy of the hands of time. You weave your legacy between my fingertips – a voice bursting through parted lips in an open mouth, a name greased to perfection. Your words, by now, are my mantra. A solemn prayer. A practiced routine. _

_You are a hope, ignited. _

_You are the smile that tugs at the curves of my lips. The quiet of the night in the seconds before dawn, a light streaming through church windows and panes of stained glass. A stray thread born out of fraying sleeve edges on my favorite sweater, well-worn and well loved. You are–_

_You are–_

_(In the crevices of my memory, you are there.)_

_And I will keep you in my heart,_

_always._

§§

Eiji wakes up to the dawn.

The clock on his bedside table reads 5:49 A.M. He takes in the view of the pale yellow-white, the subdued shades that dance in the colors of morning as the hospital room is bathed in the faintest glow of sunrise.

In this moment, his gaze latches on to a familiar face. The color of jade.

"Ash?"

A memory of gold.

"Ash?" he calls out once more, a quiet voice pregnant with meaning. A question, imploring.

_Is that you?_

"No. Sorry," the other boy answers with a small shake of his head. He rises from his seat, moves away from the guest chair at the corner of the room and inches closer to Eiji's bedside. There's a rustle of fabric, the faintest dip of another's weight on the surface of the hospital bedsheets.

"I'm not your Ash," he hears him say, and the older man feels just the slightest tug of disappointment weighing down on his chest as he curses himself for hoping otherwise. "I'm just the reaper."

"Reaper?" Eiji blinks himself further awake, rubs away at the sands of sleep that collect at the corners of his eyes. Dark brown eyes skim over the blond boy's apparel – from his white inner tee, red hoodie and navy denim jacket, to the black ripped jeans and red converse sneakers – the sight of it all too painfully familiar. "Reaper as in..._shinigami_?"

"Ah, I almost forgot that's how you Japanese prefer to call me by...but yes, Okumura Eiji-kun. I meant the reaper as in _shinigami_."

"Then...what's all this?" Eiji mutters and gestures briefly towards his appearance.

"Dunno," he tells him with a shrug, a brief quiver of his shoulders. "I was made to look like this — don't ask me why, I don't make the rules. That's the job of the higher gods, and I'm just a humble reaper. I'm only here to collect your soul."

"Oh. So–"

"But," the reaper admits, "at the very least, looking like this sure makes the journey a lot easier to proceed with."

"So...I'm dead?" Eiji wonders aloud; he worries he must sound stupid for doing so, and he makes it a point to voice his troubles out as such. The tone of his voice is peppered with joking condescension. Quickly he adds, "Sorry. I must sound pretty stupid for asking, huh?"

"Don't be. People ask me these things all the time," the reaper replies and waves off his apprehensions with a shooing gesture of his hand. "As for your question, Okumura-kun, the answer is no."

"No?"

At this, the reaper turns to look his way and offer him a courteous smile.

"Well," he says, "at least, not yet."

§§

The next moment Eiji opens his eyes, he sees the sky.

It's a curious transition. Eiji remembers sitting upright in his hospital bed, the figure of Ash by his bedside as he waits for the seconds to pass with every recurring beep of his heart on a machine, and then he blinks, and everything that he knows vanishes before his very eyes. Now, he sees the world above them, beneath them, around them – visions of himself reflected in pools of what he guesses are crafted out of sheer memory.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then in a way, you're correct," the reaper tells him just then. The blond raises an arm to gesture to the waters, the act almost thespian as it is graceful.

"These are the pools of The Times, and as a special service, we allow souls to make four trips before they pass on to help them rid themselves of any lingering regrets," he explains. "My job is to escort you to where you want to go before I deliver your soul back to the higher gods in time for your rebirth."

"Hmm, that's nice," Eiji merely hums back in reply. He peers closer into the nearest basin of turquoise, the waters leading him back to a vision of his old home in Izumo. It's a memory of him with his sister, probably around the time when he was nine and she was on the cusp of five, eating watermelons on their veranda. They're bickering again over who gets to eat the last piece. Softly, Eiji allows himself a smile.

(Annoying little brat his sister may have been, it was still a fond moment they shared in his life.)

"The pools of The Times comprise an array of past and potential memories. Hence, we offer all sorts of pathways, from locations you want to revisit to places you always wanted to travel to but never had the chance to see," the reaper continues, unperturbed, listing his options in a composed manner as he ushers Eiji through the hall. "Even otherworldly realms—"

"_Ah_," the reaper blurts all of a sudden, just as he hops over a newborn pool, a puddle reflecting the figure of the Louvre. "But we do have an exception."

"Oh?"

"I can bring you anywhere and everywhere you'd like, Okumura-kun, except for the future," the blond boy tells him with a rueful smile. "We can't go faster than the rate of time in the living realm, you see, and there's no such way for us, or even the higher gods, to know what lies ahead as we move forward in life."

Quickly Eiji spares a glance towards a stray pool as clear as day, catching his reflection in the mirror of its waters. He sees that his ponytail is gone and his hair is cut short. To his surprise, he's greeted with the sight of fluffed up bangs and a hairstyle that ends just at the nape. He'd also forgotten to bring his glasses.

In this time, Eiji thinks, he looks no more than nineteen years young.

"Where to?" the reaper asks and gestures to the pools in the sky that hover around them. The volume of his voice is not quite booming as it is gentle, but still it is enough to jolt Eiji out of his inquisitive stupor. "The past? The present? Another dimension? We could go anywhere you'd like, Okumura-ku—"

"Eiji," he interrupts.

"Huh?"

"Just Eiji is fine," the Japanese explains, and moves an errant pool out of the space between them. "There's really no need to be so formal with me, Shinigami-san."

"Alright then...Eiji," the reaper says, approaching his name with an air of hesitance, his lips stretching into an odd half-smile as he makes his way through the vowels. Eiji thinks nothing of it, but at the very least, the reaper sounds almost apologetic in his attempt. "So where?"

The older boy rises from his former crouch and pats away any stray droplets from his clothes. The memories come away like beads, detaching themselves from the cloth of his trousers and bursting bubble-like into the oblivion.

"Cape Cod," Eiji answers in response. "On a good day."

The reaper turns to look him in the eye, a cocked eyebrow raised in askance.

"Interesting choice," he remarks. Wordlessly, he gestures toward the other with a beckoning finger.

"I just want to see the place he grew up in, I guess," Eiji reasons, scratching his head as he follows the other's lead. The reaper's feet are nimble with practice as they avoid the nostalgic waters that cross their path. They make a sharp turn at the western skies, where the blond stops them abruptly at the end of the makeshift hall.

"Well?" the reaper asks him, pointing to the water seconds before they dive into a pool as bright as a fire. "Shall we make our visit?"

§§

Cape Cod on a good day is not so much different as it is from a bad one, to be quite honest. The skies are clear and the winds are battering down on them without a single ounce of mercy. Eiji remembers Ash telling him about the winds. When it comes to Ash, Eiji remembers a lot of things.

"Judging by your answer, I figured it'd be better to let you see this," the reaper reasons, arms crossed against his chest. Eiji follows his gaze.

The house looks grander than he remembers: it boasts of sandcastle walls and a drab olive roof, all polished windows and wood sidings that don a new coat of fresh paint. The garden is just as unkempt, however, with vines just beginning to creep up the patio columns at their base.

From the corner of his eye, Eiji spots two figures out on the yard. The one on the left is a teenager of average build hair the color of sandstone and hand clad in a thick leather glove. The other one, the smaller child on the right, is Ash. In this time, he's probably no more than five years old at most. He's got on a blue cap over his head and a bat that seems to be one size too big than what he could be comfortable working with.

It looks like the shorter boy is shouting something at the taller one – what it is exactly, from this distance, Eiji can't really tell. He guesses it's something like a demand for one more throw, considering Ash had just missed the last ball Griffin pitched for him.

Griffin laughs at him just then, heartily and without a care in the world. Still, to no one's surprise, he very quickly gives in to the other's whims. Eiji watches as Griffin gears himself into position, taking one step back and lifting his knee before he throws what looks like a curveball toward the smaller boy's direction. Ash arches his back as he strides forward, bending slightly as he takes the swing.

It hits, and the ball lands right by the reaper's feet.

"You should probably give this back," the reaper instructs as he hands the ball over to the Japanese and drops it into his palm. Eiji is almost surprised at the suggestion.

"I can...talk to them?"

The reaper stares at him for a good three seconds, a look of petulant disbelief plastered almost thickly onto his pale face.

"You're joking, right? Or is it...what, don't tell me you've forgotten how to speak English," the blond boy scoffs. "Of course you can, Eiji! Or else there'd have been no point in us making these trips in the first place."

"...Oh."

"Just…" he begins, voice trailing off until he pauses midway and thinks better of his words, "don't give too much away, yeah?"

The other promptly nods back in reply.

"Of course," Eiji swears, "I'll keep that in mind."

The reaper sends him off with a wave. The Callenreese siblings are making their way to the bayside near the pair, Ash breaking off into a little half-sprint as Griffin jogs to catch up to his pace. Eiji leaves the reaper to meet them halfway.

"Excuse me," he calls out to them, raising the baseball up high over his head to get their attention. "I believe this is yours!"

At the sound of his voice, the child startles and stops in his tracks, scurrying to hide behind his older brother's hip as soon as Griffin arrives. He sneaks in a curious glance every now and then as the two older boys attempt to make conversation.

"Yes! Hi! That's ours!" Griffin hollers back before tacking on his thanks.

"No worries. Here," Eiji answers him with a smile, handing him the ball. "Just figured it would be best to personally return this to its owner. The rye's pretty thick down there so it's easy to lose something as small as a ball in these fields."

"That's true," Griffin agrees. "Now, Aslan," he nudges his little brother, "what do we say?"

Ash steps away from behind his brother's figure and looks up at Eiji. His hand clutches more tightly on his brother's pant leg, fingers trembling in their grasp. The fabric wrinkles in his hold.

"H-He...Hello," he stammers.

"Hello to you too, Aslan," Eiji smiles back at him warmly. "I am Eiji. It's nice to meet you."

"And...?" Griffin prompts, a subtle effort at coaxing. "What else?"

Ash's face scrunches up, almost bewildered, and his nose crinkles in confusion. He turns to Eiji once again, a feeble attempt to size up his opponent. His mouth stretches oddly as he makes an effort to voice out the vowels.

"E...Eiji…" he begins.

"Yes?" Eiji asks.

"You speak funny," is all he says instead.

"Aslan!"

"And your eyes look weird. They're so small. Why is that?"

The teenager pales at the remark, offering the older man an apology as he scolds his younger brother for being rude. Eiji shakes it off and doesn't hold back on his laughter.

"It's fine," he tells Griffin, and his words are genuine. Eiji crouches down to meet the child at his level.

"I guess I do, huh?" he tells him, his voice gentle, patient, and even. Up close, Eiji sees the glinting green of Ash's round doe eyes, the way his flaxen hair peeks out of his cap and ends just a little past his ears. "Well, Aslan...do you want to know a secret?"

A nod.

"I'm not originally from here," he explains. "I'm Japanese, and that's why my eyes are shaped like this. They look like lines when I smile, see?"

Right on cue, Eiji grins, eyes crinkling for extra effect. Ash laughs at his little display. It's bright and loud and so overwhelmingly innocent, and the sound of it rings bell-like in the older man's ears. Eiji wishes he could hear the sound of Ash's laughter forever.

The older man continues patiently, "I also used to live in Japan before I went to America and that's why I have this funny accent when I speak English. Do you know where Japan is, Aslan?"

"In the east!" Ash recites with a raised hand, and he sounds almost smug when he does. "Asia!"

"Yes, that's correct," Eiji chuckles and reaches out to pat his head. "You're very smart, Aslan."

The little boy beams.

"Would you like to go there, Aslan?" Griffin asks, and Ash squeals with delight at the thought of it all.

"I like! I like!"

Eiji stills as he listens to the brothers' small exchange. He stays crouched in position, his gaze level with Ash's from where he half-stands. A small smile forms on Eiji's face as the young boy looks back at him. The ache in his heart does not quite make it far enough to reach his eyes.

"Maybe someday, then," Eiji tells him in a gentle whisper, thoughts drifting to a point in the far-off future. "When you get older, perhaps, you can come and visit Japan with me."

"Yeah!" Ash squeaks out with equal parts of enthusiasm, bouncing excitedly. The energy he alone radiates could be blinding.

"Anyway," Eiji says, dusting off his trousers as he rises from his position. "It was nice meeting you both but I'm afraid I have to go now. My companion is still out there by the bayside, and I don't want to keep him waiting for too long."

"Likewise," Griffin replies. "Sorry about my brother–"

"No, no," Eiji shrugs the matter off with another shake of his head. "Please don't worry about it. It really didn't bother me."

"Alright," the older sibling acquiesces. "Thank you again, and goodbye."

"Sure thing. Goodbye," he regards them both. "Be good to your _onii-chan, _Aslan."

"_On…nii…chan?_"

"It means 'big brother' in my language," he smiles at him kindly.

"Oh, okay then," the child replies with a wave, "bye-bye, _onii-chan!"_

"Bye-bye, Aslan," Eiji waves back.

The two siblings head back into their home, their silhouettes bathed by the light of eventide and blending like a painting into the dusty orange of the late afternoon sky. Eiji watches them from the distance, standing alone in the solace of golden fields, and bids his farewell to the wind:

"Bye-bye," he whispers. "_Sayonara_, Ash."

"Welcome back," the reaper greets him when he returns. "You sure took your time."

The older boy shrugs.

"Just made some polite conversation is all," Eiji says, once again falling into step with the reaper as the latter takes the lead. The blond guides him through the field until they settle for a spot with a soft patch of grass.

"The view of the sunset is always nice from down here," he tells him then. "Come, watch."

Eiji follows. He plops down onto the grassy space next to the reaper and lies in wait for the coming of dusk. Together they watch the way the seagulls soar against skies dyed by the twilight, the way the sun dips into still waters that mirror the brilliance of the horizon. The winds are blowing harsh against their faces, relentless, but the sun that shines against their figures bathes him in a forgiving warmth. It feels calming. Familiar.

(It feels like coming home.)

In the tranquil stillness, Eiji allows himself to give in to the illusion. He takes in this momentary fantasy, this gentle reprieve. He sends his thanks to the higher gods of the heavens for this indulgence they've gifted to him, even if perhaps it were a blessing given out of pity if nothing else.

A yawn escapes him.

"Tired already, _onii-chan_?" the reaper teases. Still, he inches closer to the edge to offer the older boy the remainder of their space. "You can take a nap, if you'd like. This spot is warm enough. Besides, you should probably get some rest before we leave for the next world."

"Thank you," he murmurs, as he lays down against the rye.

_Thank you too_, he almost hears the other boy answer back. But the ghost of his voice is stolen by the mercy of the wind, its soft echo carried away just as quickly by the breeze.

(Eiji falls asleep with a smile on his face and imagines that the reaper, too, must have his own reasons to feel grateful.)

§§

"Where to next?"

The sound of the reaper's voice startles Eiji awake, and the older boy opens his eyes in a daze as he finds himself back in the realm of the pools of The Times.

"Eiji…?" the blond calls out to him, and he sounds almost worried when he does. Eiji turns to look his way, his expression only mildly intrigued.

There's something about the reaper that piques at the older boy's curiosity that tugs at his mind and pulls him closer to the edge. Eiji says nothing at this and settles for the familiar comfort of the reaper's figure, content with the illusion the higher gods have painted for an old, dying man in their briefest act of mercy.

Eiji looks at him warmly, and he realizes then, that the answer is clear.

"You choose."

"Huh?"

The reaper regards him with a tender expression, eyes wide with surprise as they exchange glances. Eiji pulls away, settling instead for the sight of their silhouettes on a cruise, the impression of a memory peeking through a modest pool's faded waters.

"I've already seen what I wanted to see," Eiji tells him then, fingers dancing along the liquid surface, "and I've already lived out my favorite moments during my lifetime. There's no need for me to rewind time so as to play back those memories, nor do I need to contemplate on the what if's and what could have been's."

The moments wrinkle under Eiji's hands, history rippling like fragments distorting beneath his touch.

"Besides," he adds, "even if I were to go back to the past, there is no need for me to insist that he and I say goodbye to each other over and over again."

"I see," the reaper mutters with a pensive look on his face. "So th—"

"Exactly," Eiji agrees, interrupting. "So."

"So?"

"So I want to let you decide where we go next," the Japanese tells the other with a smile, "_Shinigami-san_."

"But these are the pools of your lifetime, Eiji, of your dimensions..."

"Then whatever it is you're curious about. The past? The present? Another dimension?" Eiji makes a show of raising his arms in grand fashion, gesturing to the vast array of pools that surround them, and recites the reaper's spiel in jest. "It's all up to you. We can go to wherever you want to see."

"I can't possibly take that choice away from you," the blond boy argues with reason.

"Wow, you're really terrible at this huh?" the Japanese laughs. "Sure I'm giving you the rest of my chances and my choices, Shinigami-san, but please don't feel bad. I want to do this. Has no one ever given you the opportunity to decide on things freely for yourself?"

"W-well...no. But—"

"Then now's the perfect chance! Go on. Wherever you want, I'll be happy to go with you. The gods won't know any better," Eiji tells him with a grin, reassuring. "Whichever realm you'd be happy to see, I'll be content to be by your side."

"Why?" the reaper asks. "Why are you doing this for me?"

Eiji halts in his motions, pursing his lips in the moment as he does. He takes his hand out of the water and wipes away the droplets of nostalgia that remain. The reaper watches him, curious, as a silence falls over The Times, the skies of the multiverse hushed by the sheer force of their existences.

A minute passes them by in the stillness, until Eiji looks up to meet the reaper's gaze. His eyes soften just then, and his voice cracks only slightly when he opens his mouth to speak.

"Because people like you deserve to be happy too, don't you think?"

§§

The reaper takes him back to present-day New York. The two had dived into a vast pool of indigo at the blond's insistence and had come back out of it almost instantly – figures rippling into existence under shades of blue, clear skies shining down on them at the heart of Manhattan.

The city hasn't changed much, to be quite honest. New York is still New York, but as the reaper ogles the sight of the Big Apple, peridot eyes taking in the view of the metropolis from where they stand, it's clear from the point of view of any witness that the blond is in a state of pure awe.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so surprised," Eiji remarks. "Is downtown really that different compared to when you were last here, Shinigami-san?"

"You'd think that after hearing the stories of numerous generations who crossed over from this part of the city that being here would feel different," the reaper confides, "it's cleaner and more crowded, sure, but other than that…even after all these years, Eiji, seeing the city as it is now, it's almost as though I'd never left."

"But why choose to go to New York again?" Eiji probes, intrigued. "I mean, you just fetched me from here. I don't know how long you were waiting in my room, but surely you could've done some sightseeing before I woke up…"

"That's the thing," the other boy answers back, "I was only ever here for business, and even then I always took the graveyard shift for reaping. I think you know what I mean when I say that the life of a city is different under the sun and under the night sky."

"Ah, yes," the Japanese agrees, "I understand completely."

"But anyway, I'm planning on getting some food first before we walk around. What do you say, Eiji?"

"That's fine with me. Do reapers still get hungry too?"

"Ah, no...not really," he admits ruefully, raising an arm to scratch the back of his head. "I mean we don't actually need to eat anymore, since we're technically dead, but it isn't like we're unable or not allowed to either. The same goes for souls. I once had a client who used up all four of her passes just to go on a food trip around her favorite parts of the European continent."

"Oh."

"I just figured that since we're already here, it would be nice to grab a bite," the blond shrugs. "Really make ourselves feel a bit more alive. Maximizing the experience and whatnot."

"I see. So what would you like to eat, Shinigami-san?"

"I'm in the mood for some Chinese," the reaper tells him with a smile. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Leave it to me," Eiji says, flashing him a grin, "I know just the place."

§§

_Welcome to Chang Dai! _a pair of twins greet as the two swing open the stainless steel doors. The restaurant is filled to the brim during the lunch time rush, but the two boys are fortunate enough to chance upon an empty table at the nearest corner of the room.

Nadia looks at them from her perch at the manager's desk, caught in the middle of sorting out delivery orders and reservation inquiries, and turns to her staff. _Wendy, _she calls out to a young girl, her tone poised, level, and firm, _please guide our customers to the table._

At Nadia's instruction, the teenager walks up to them; she's clad in a school uniform with an apron tied around her waist. "Hi. As you've heard from my _a màh_, the name's Wendy," the waitress informs them as she ushers the two to their seats, her voice bright and cheery, "and I'll be your server for today."

Eiji and the reaper both slide into the booth as Wendy hands them each a menu and continues with her introduction. She leans an inch closer to the Japanese, and calls herself to his attention.

"I don't think I've ever seen you two around before," she points out, resting a casual hand atop Eiji's shoulder for a fraction of a second. Coyly, she asks, "Are you tourists? Is this your first time eating here?"

"Actually, we–"

"Yes," the reaper answers, promptly cutting the other boy off, "it is. So tell me, Wendy, what would you recommend?"

"My dad's turnip cake with XO sauce is pretty good if you ask me," the waitress says to him. "But there's also our house specialty, the pork _siu mai_. You can scour the rest of Chinatown all you want, but you won't find any other taste like it."

"Sounds great," the blond boy responds, mouth pressed in a tight-lipped smile. "I'll take the _siu mai_ then – good for two, so we can share. And a chrysanthemum tea, please, if you have any."

"Okay, a double order of pork _siu mai _it is...and one_ bo-lay _tea," she announces to confirm the reaper's orders, muttering to herself loudly as she jots down a scribble of sorts onto her notepad. She then turns to Eiji and asks him sweetly, the tone of her voice dripping saccharine. "And what about you?"

"I'd like some time to go through the rest of my options first, if that's alright," the older boy requests politely.

"No problem," she tells him. "Feel free to give me a call when you're ready," she instructs, throwing a playful wink in the Japanese boy's direction before she makes her way back to the kitchen. The reaper watches her leave and waits for the teenager to fall out of earshot before he turns to address his companion.

"She's totally flirting with you," the blond boy jeers. At this, Eiji's stops midway through flipping through the _dim sum_ catalogue, mouth falling agape as a look of disbelief paints itself over his face.

"Yeah right," he laughs, "that's very funny, Shinigami-san. There's no way a lovely girl like her would be into a gross old man like me."

"Well I hate to break it to you, _onii-chan, _but you only look nineteen right now. And she's been pulling out all the stops to make a move on you ever since we stepped foot into this place," the reaper tells him, voice hushed. "Now I don't know if maybe you're really that dense or you just haven't realized it yet, but…"

"Really now?" Eiji quips, "Me? Dense?"

"Well, you seemed to not care when Wendy put her hand on your shoulder earlier," the reaper explains. "You were also pretty oblivious to her batting coquettish pretty eyes your way the whole time she was suggesting things for us to order."

"Hmm," the older boy counters, teasing. "Sounds like somebody's jealous…"

"No! I'm not. I just–"

"I don't know, Shinigami-san," he shrugs in a pacifying manner, hands half-raised in surrender, "it sure seemed that way to me..."

Eiji makes a show out of sighing dramatically, promptly cutting the reaper off before the other can argue further.

"Too bad for Wendy though," the Japanese boy remarks, picking up a pair of disposable chopsticks and splitting them into two. "I can't believe she hasn't realized that we're in the middle of a date right now."

"Oh," the reaper responds, grabbing another set of utensils for himself, "we are?"

"Of course," Eiji tells him with a grin. "Why else would I bring you to my favorite restaurant in all of Chinatown? I'm treating you to good lunch for good reason, Shinigami-san."

The sounds of their banter is interrupted by the arrival of their food. Their orders are hauled in by a pair of twin boys – the first hoisting two bamboo steamers stacked one over the other, while the second, a boy with a build a tad smaller than his brother's, is carrying a medium-sized tray large enough to transport the tea.

The first brother sets the food down and pops open the steamer; there's a whiff of steam rising up into the air as he unstacks the containers and lifts open the wooden lid. He leaves promptly afterwards with a quick bow of his head, toting the lid in his right hand as he makes his way to the scullery.

"S-so sorry," the shorter one mumbles, struggling to pour the _bo-lay_. The reaper offers to take the pot from the child's small hands and serve it for himself, but the latter insists until the china nearly slips from his grasp, and he spills the hot liquid over the floor in his attempt.

"It's fine, kid," the blond tells him, placing the now-empty pot onto the table, "you don't have to apologize."

The boy bites his lip in worry, grabbing some tissues in a skittish attempt to wipe up his recent mess of a puddle. He looks almost on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, it's okay. There's no need to panic," Eiji adds, placating, steering the boy's hands away from the still-warm spill to allow it to cool. He plasters on a smile for the sake of the child, the tenor of his voice nothing short of reassuring. "Or could it be that you were hurt? Did you burn yourself?"

"'M not hurt," the child answers shakily, "b-b-but…"

"Hey," the reaper suggests, calmly interrupting the two. "It's okay. You know what, I think I'd prefer to drink some iced oolong anyway. We can take care of the mess here, but in the meantime, do you think you can get some iced oolong tea for me and my friend instead, kid?"

The young boy nods in haste, dipping his head in a fleeting attempt of acknowledgement before he practically flees to the back kitchen. He returns immediately afterwards, two glasses of iced oolong held proudly in his hands.

"Thank you very much," the blond says, sincere. He ruffles the little boy's cropped hair in an effort to assuage him. "See? Don't cry now, you're doing a good job out there."

The little boy gleams with praise. He bows his head in thanks before he runs off, skittish, and returns to his place in the cookery.

"That was nice of you," Eiji remarks, tossing aside a soggy napkin before he claps his hands in prayer. He offers up a few words of gratitude and promptly picks up a piece of _siu mai_, digging in. The reaper follows suit, dispensing the soy sauce onto a small ceramic dish before dipping his piece into the seasoning.

"I just wanted to help the kid redeem himself," he reasons, taking a bite into the pork, "I'd have felt bad otherwise. He's doing his best to help his family here. I knew someone who did the exact same thing, and he always told me how working at a restaurant was always harder than it appears to be."

"A soul you delivered?"

"No," the blond tells him with a small shake of his head, his gaze falling soft as it lands on the silken red lanterns that hang high over the entryway, "just an old friend."

The reaper's voice trails off, jade green eyes caught in the briefest of daydreams. He catches himself so as to continue. Eiji sits across the table and watches him speak fondly, brown eyes soft and expression warm with affection.

They finish their meal in an hour's time, two boys content with each other's presence over plates of dim sum and chopsticks and watered-down iced oolong. When Eiji calls over Wendy and asks for their bill, she leaves him her number scrawled on a note taped together with the receipt.

(_Told you so_, the reaper teases, voice smug. Eiji pays him no mind.)

The Japanese fumbles in his pockets to grab his wallet – thanking the higher gods that they magnanimously allowed him to bring this much even in the afterlife. He counts out a few bank notes as he settles their pay, while the reaper snatches the bill and quickly pulls out a pen.

"What are you doing?" Eiji asks.

"Leaving a tip," the reaper answers nonchalant, scribbling down a small note in chicken scratch pinyin at the back of the receipt.

_M̀h gòi, jèhjè. - A._

(Nadia picks up the bill once they exit the booth. There's the hearty resonance of the staff's _Thank you for coming! _that echoes through the hall, but the voice of the manager hangs on at the end of their words. The three exchange glances briefly by the entryway, until the silver-haired sends the boys off with the ghost of a smile and a quiet but an earnest, _Thank you for your time._)

§§

It rains as they exit – a gentle shower that pitter-patters against the pavement and leaves patterns like inkblots in its wake. The reaper props up the hood of his jacket over his head, while he summons an umbrella and hands it to the Japanese. Eiji offers that they share.

"No need," the blond tells him, a slim index pointing to his hood, "I'm good. Focus on yourself more."

"Fine," Eiji settles, acquiescing. He holds the umbrella high over his head and leaves enough space for the other. "But walk by me, anyway."

So he does.

They stroll around the streets of New York for a good hour and a half, flitting from parks and museums and old souvenir shops like tourists on a holiday, and stopping only at the Manhattan Bridge for some idle sightseeing.

Eiji thinks about Ash throughout all of these, of his semblance with the reaper and their pipe dream of a facade. A life with him was the greatest that he never had, Eiji realizes, yet he bites his tongue at the remark and lets his mind wander in reverie. He thinks about castles in the sky and tangled phantasms in daydreams. A fond illusion. A fool's paradise.

He gives in.

"The weather isn't letting up," Eiji mutters under his breath, stretching out his hand past the tips of the canopy and catching the raindrops as they fall. "Standing here under the rain like this... it reminds me of that movie, don't you think?"

"What movie?"

"The one with Meg Ryan. And Tom Hanks, I think. It's kind of old, but my mother loved it so we watched it at home a lot. _Sleepless in Seattle_, have you seen it?"

"Of course I have," the reaper replies, quoting, "It rains nine months of the year in Seattle."

"I know!" Eiji recites back with a tip of his head and the lightest of laughs. The reaper joins him just then, and just like that, the two boys blend in perfectly with the sea of the living, hearts alight and sounding oh so alive.

Then, the moment breaks.

"Something's wrong," Eiji blurts out all of a sudden, chancing upon a crouched figure on the streets as they make their way towards the Clock Tower. "I think that person is crying."

The figure is of a woman clad in ragged clothes tinged in grey, her long straight hair bleached ombre at the tips. She's bent over at the waist, hunched over the pavement. The cacophony of her sobs go ignored by the crowds.

Eiji makes an effort to run towards her. The blond grabs his arm to stop him.

"Don't," he warns the other sternly, voice grim. The Japanese squirms under his hold.

"Let go of me, please," Eiji insists. "She looks like she needs help."

"You can't," the reaper tells him with a shake of his head. The pressure on his wrist loosens, and Eiji pulls away from his slackened grip. "That's a suicide, Eiji. It's too late now."

The reaper continues, eyes dark with remorse and voice thick with pity.

"She's already dead. Even if you approach her, your touch will only go through. Believe me, I've tried. They're trapped in the same cycle of how they killed themselves," he explains, before directing the Japanese to another point on the bridge. "See? There goes another one."

Eiji's follows his gaze. Together, they watch the way a figure leaps off into the embrace of the deep blue. From the distance, he hears the sound of the woman's cries.

Again.

And again.

And again.

It becomes repetitive. Haunting. Like a scene from a movie with a glitch in the mechanism – a scratched up disc, a stuttering film reel. A cycle that loops on without end. Eiji's eyes cannot pull away. His gaze gets drawn in.

He doesn't remember what happens next.

§§

_Eiji_, a voice calls out to him.

It's a sad voice, the older man thinks to himself, but says nothing of it. The feeling of the void as it pulls him in is a welcome one, and Eiji instead allows his soul to plunge deeper into the darkness.

_Eiji, wake up! Please_, the voice begs, _please wake up._

But Eiji knows this voice. It is raw, aching. Familiar. Like a ballad sung at dawn, the echo of guitar strings and a tender, longing weariness.

(It's the kind of voice Eiji remembers that he'd used to listen to on mornings over the sound of the radio, the crinkle of the newspaper; the kind of voice that lingered in the recesses of his memory, echoing in the mind until the warmth of emotion trickles down unto his fingertips.)

_Eiji, please–_

(He listens.)

Eiji opens his eyes, and for the second time that day, he wakes up to the sight of dawn. The sky is clear once again.

"Hello," the reaper greets. "How are you feeling?"

Groggily, the Japanese attempts to assess the situation. He's lying on a bench in what looks like Foley Square, and the person in front of him stirs up the memory of an old wound beginning to resurface.

"Ash?" he calls out to him hoarsely, "Ash, is tha–"

"No, sorry," the blond boy reminds him in a calm voice, the look in his eyes tinged with pity. He looks almost apologetic. "I'm just the reaper, remember?"

"Oh," Eiji answers back in a daze. He blinks thrice and the world shifts back into focus. "Yeah...that's right. Sorry, I forgot."

"That's okay," the reaper tells him as he helps the other rise to sit up. "It happens."

"Speaking of, what happened just now?"

"The miasma got to you," the reaper explains, and he runs a hand through his hair. "You see, Eiji...souls, fundamentally, are just giant blobs of spiritual energy at the core. But when souls wander around these realms for too long, they become more susceptible to repelling one another."

"So, earlier I...I was repelled?"

"You just got too close for too long, I think, but that's all. Souls are usually isolationist by nature, so they reflect an aura that repels other souls from getting too close. It's kind of like magnets, with the way that like repels like and all that basic stuff you learn in high school physics. Now, souls harvested from suicide tend to reflect even more protective energies, so they repel all other souls more intensely almost as soon as they enter the afterlife. But don't worry," the reaper tells Eiji as he holds up a bottle in his direction, "I mean sure you were knocked out for a couple of hours – heck, you even had me pretty worried there, to be honest – but the fact that you're up and able to talk to me like this now means your soul was strong enough to pull through. Water?"

Eiji accepts the offer with a murmur of thanks. The reaper cracks open a can of Pepsi for himself and takes a swig. Eiji follows suit, slower in pace as he twists open his cap and sips its contents. Together they sit in silence, breaking only when the blond boy coughs and clears his throat to speak.

"Have you ever tried?" the reaper asks. His voice is quiet with uncertainty, tinny and hesitant. Unsure.

"Oh no," Eiji answers back with a shake of his head. "I couldn't."

"But did you want to?"

Eiji lets out a laugh. It sounds bitter, derisive maybe, a choked sound that seems more forced than anything else.

"Almost all the time," he tells him. The Japanese recounts the way Sing used to be his lookout, spending the night at his home with the feigned excuse of petty arguments with the Lee's for the sake of making sure he'd be alright. The older boy had expressed his apologies back then, unloading the heavy remorse that lingered in the hollow of his chest as his mind always reminded him of the risks of being a burden.

"I was so close, you know," Eiji admits. He gulps down another mouthful of water, another minute of heavy silence passing them by until the Japanese mustered enough courage to continue with his story. His voice is a quiet plea in pursuit of support, of comfort, or perhaps even forgiveness. His eyes are burdened with the heavy weight of an apology, albeit unspoken. Through all of this, the reaper listens and waits – ever calm, ever patient.

"But then I remember him and how he fought so hard to stay alive," Eiji says and goes on, voice struggling to stay even as it's wrought heavy with mourning, the telltale ache of a decade's worth of grief. "It seemed like it would almost be an insult for me to throw away what he tried so hard to protect back then. You see, he always tried his best to protect me back when we were together."

The reaper hums.

"You know, Eiji," the blond boy remarks, tossing the half-emptied soda can into the bin, "you sound a lot like you were in love."

Eiji sets down the water bottle by his feet. Slowly, he reaches out for the other boy with trembling fingers. _May I?, _he asks as he cups the other's face in a featherweight caress and cradles his jaw with warm, shaking hands. The reaper stills beneath his hold, his skin cool to the touch.

The older boy steadies himself in the moment.

They stay like that for a good half-minute, a shared intimacy fueled by the benevolent ruse of the higher gods, and only then does Eiji remember that the reaper is not the same man he shows himself to be.

(Still, however, he has yet to pull away.)

"What do you think?" Eiji asks him instead, his breath catching in his throat as he runs a thumb across the other's cheek. Then in a quiet voice, a somber expression coupled with the saddest of smiles, he says, "The gods made you look like him for a reason, didn't they?"

§§

"Who are you?!" Yue-Lung demands as he holds them at gunpoint. The streets of Hong Kong bustle loudly outside the Lee mansion's sitting room window, but it is nothing compared to the silent tension wrought by the hostility that takes over the room.

"I'm telling you, it's me, Ei–"

"The Okumura Eiji I know is fifty-three years old," the Chinese bites out harshly, "and Ash Lynx is dead. He–"

"...died more than thirty years ago after being stabbed by Lao Yen-Tai," the reaper finishes for him. "Yes, I know. I am well aware."

"Then clearly you must understand, my dear impostors, why I cannot trust your claims."

"I'll admit that you're right about me being an impostor," the blond tells him smugly. "I may look like your old friend Ash but I'm just the reaper. So you can shoot all you want, but it won't matter much since we're already dead."

"The rea–"

"To be more accurate, the truth is that he's dead and I'm dying," Eiji interrupts with a calm smile on his face. "We're only here right now because we just have some unfinished business to deal with before I can cross over."

"Unfinished business, you say... so are you here to kill me as you initially swore you would?" Yue-Lung scoffs. "Go ahead, then. I'd like to see you try."

"What? _No._" Eiji shakes his head, adamant. "We're just here to hand you this," the Japanese confides as he steps forward in an attempt to take the gun off of Yue-Lung's hands.

"It's from a certain Sergei Varishikov," the reaper says as he gives him a note, a folded up sheet of paper that smells faintly like sandalwood and fine champagne.

"Blanca did–?" Yue-Lung mutters as he loosens his hold on the grip and snatches the letter from the other's grasp. He opens it up in haste.

Eiji and the reaper watch wordlessly as the Chinese man blinks once, then twice, as he skims over its contents. There's the way his lips tremble and his eyes gloss over with the threat of tears that begin to spill, but before he can yield to the avalanche of his feelings that threaten to take hold, Yue-Lung folds the paper up and tucks it back into his pocket.

"I apologize for my behavior and not believing you sooner," the heir says to them at last, after a beat of silence. "I will read this in my own time. Thank you for delivering it to me."

The two boys take his words as their cue to leave. The guards escort them to the gate, and the master of the Lee's joins in to send them off for a final goodbye.

"I know that I have no right to ask that you forgive me for everything that has happened between us," Yue-Lung confesses to them in their final moments. "But even so," he says as he bows deeply, raising his head once more to look at the Japanese boy in the eye, "please know that I am truly very sorry, Okumura Eiji."

Eiji says nothing to this, naturally. He simply looks back at the Chinese scion in earnest. Just like the gods, Eiji too offers the other a faint semblance of charity, if nothing else. It is an indulgent reprieve. A mirage of a fantasy.

It is a cruel, yet tender, act of mercy.

"Thank you for telling me this, Yue-Lung," he says to him instead. Eiji dips his head in a low bow as the two of them make their exit. "May you stay well."

§§

They take a break at the Tai Po Waterfront, resting underneath the cherry trees. They're the Taiwanese variety, their shade of pink darker and stronger than the ones Eiji remembers from back home. Still, however, they make for a great view.

"How nice," Eiji remarks, pleased at the sight of the flowering trees. "Did you know, Shinigami-san? In our country, we have this tradition called _hanami_. It's a way for us to welcome the spring. Japan has a lot of cherry blossoms, you see – they're a lot like these, but a little lighter in color – and what we do is we sit with our family and friends underneath the _sakura _and watch them as they bloom."

The reaper tilts his head up and peers more closely at the foliage, curious.

"So, is what we're doing now ... a _hanami_?"

The Japanese concedes. "In a way," he chortles, voice light, "it can be, if you want. We might not have food and _sake _with us now, but I do appreciate your company. It might sound odd to you, but for us Japanese, we find that it's in the fleeting nature of things that makes them so beautiful. Ephemerality, was it…?" he says, averting his gaze to the woods of the park. "Don't you think the same thing goes for people too?"

"Hm?"

"Nature is beautiful simply because it never lasts," Eiji admits, thinking out loud. "That's why we celebrate the blossoms in the moment that they bloom. The fact that life is short, that memories can be so quick, so transient...that's what makes us cherish them more. Has it ever crossed your mind to see souls in the same way, Shinigami-san?"

Eiji turns his attention back onto the flowers.

"I knew someone, once, who lived all out, one hundred percent," the older boy confesses. His hand lingers by the other's side, warm. Open. Familiar. "He was a brilliant and miraculous life force. And even if my time with him was very brief, I feel very fortunate that I got to spend at least a short while in his company."

Eiji's voice trails off and falls hushed, his features poignant and tender with fond affection. The reaper hums by his side, patient. Listening.

"You know, Shinigami-san," the Japanese explains with a quiet sigh, "the _sakura _is always more beautiful when you watch it together with the ones you love, rather than alone."

"But I'm not the Ash that you love, Eiji," the reaper reminds the other boy in a whisper, voice gentle and eyes calm. "I'm just the reaper, remember?"

"I know that," Eiji says to him with a plastered-on smile, faint rays of light falling on his face as it filters through the pinks of the trees. "But even so, Shinigami-san. The cherry blossoms look lovely in this moment, don't you think?"

"Yeah," the reaper tells him softly after a beat, the wisp of a smile painted delicately over his features. "They do."

§§

"I've decided, Eiji," the reaper declares as soon as they return to the realm of The Times, "let's go to Japan."

"What makes you say that?" the Japanese asks as he follows the reaper's lead, a hop in his step as they make their way past the familiar waters.

"I'm just curious is all. I've always wondered what your country was like," the reaper tells him. "I want to see the land that you came from."

"Are we going to the past then, Shinigami-san?"

"No!" he shakes his head, moving forward. Together, the boys continue to forage on past the gallery of pools. The reaper bursts into a small jog, voice teeming with uncontainable excitement. "The present. Let's go visit your good friend, Sing."

Eiji hastens his pace and attempts to catch up.

"I gave you my chances so you can choose for yourself, Shinigami-san," Eiji scolds in between panting breaths. He's long since outlived his glory days as a former athlete. "Don't spend your last trip on me."

"One good turn deserves another, Okumura Eiji," the reaper lilts back in response, tone sing-song. He stops at a silver pool at the end of the hall, a patient hand dipping into the Orient. "How about it?" the reaper offers him kindly. "It'd be a good chance for you to say goodbye."

§§

Spring nights in Tokyo are brisk with the lingering chill of the seasons, the reaper thinks, as they make their way past the streets of Akasaka district in Minato ward. There's a blowing breeze that nips at their skin, but it's nothing too bothersome for two dead men walking in the late hours of the night.

They stop at a house on the corner of Ni-chome. Eiji walks up to the entrance promptly then, and the door swings open at his third knock.

A Japanese woman receives them at the foyer. She's clad in a silk green nightdress with a beige shawl cloaked over her shoulders; her hair is as black as the evening sky, tied into a loose low bun with her bangs falling just a little bit above her eyes.

"Hi, Aki-chan," Eiji greets with a small wave of his hand. "It's been a while."

"Eiji-san!" she gasps and raises a hand up to cover her mouth. "What brings you here? I thought you were at the hospital!" she rambles as she tackles him into a tight hug. "And why do you look s–..._oh."_

"So it's finally that time, huh?" Akira asks, now speaking more slowly, realization dawning upon her features as she lowers her voice to a softer volume.

"Yeah, it is," Eiji confesses as he holds her gently in his embrace. "I'm sorry."

Akira gives him one tight squeeze before she finally pulls away. Eiji lets her go.

"Don't be," she tells him with a sad smile on her face. She waves off the impending tears and points to the stairway behind her. "He fell asleep on his computer again. You can find him in his study on the second floor. He's been conked out for a while now, though, so you better wake him up properly or else he'll think he's only been dreaming."

Eiji gives her his thanks, hanging his jacket on the rack and shedding off his shoes by the _genkan_ before he makes his way inside. Akira lingers by the doorway, eyes catching sight of a familiar face illuminated by the streetlights.

"Hey, you…" she says, calling out to the blond. "You're Ash, aren't you?"

The reaper steps forward at her insistence, a wordless call committed by the beckon of a single finger. Sing Akira is a powerful woman, and even without an utterance for demands of his confirmation, the reaper opts to do little else but to raise his hands in surrender and simper.

"Okay. You caught me," he confesses in a hushed voice, "but don't tell Eiji just yet. He doesn't know I'm real."

"You have my word," she promises, crossing a hand over her heart. The reaper mimics the gesture and offers her his thanks.

"You know, I saw all the photos back when I visited New York in middle school, but seeing you in the flesh makes me think...wow, you really are a beautiful person," Akira observes, pausing if only to inspect his features. The reaper stills under her quiet scrutiny. "Eiji-san is really lucky to have you."

"Not at all," the reaper answers back with a small shake of his head. "He's the one who saved me. Really, it's the other way around."

"Mm...maybe so. To tell you the truth, I used to have a crush on Eiji-san before," Akira confides in the reaper, a look of longing and schmaltz plastered clearly on her rosy-cheeked face, "but I never really stood a chance. In all those years, it had only ever been you."

The illumination of the streetlamps casts shadows that dance briefly against their figures, the two of them like ethereal beings standing underneath the ephemeral light.

"He really did love you, Ash," she continues on, unfazed, "more than anybody else."

Akira pulls the fabric closer to her chest, wrapping the shawl tightly round her shoulders to ward off the evening chill. The reaper watches her like an elegant thing, an image of wistfulness painted vividly on a moonlit Tokyo night.

"You can come inside, you know," she reminds him kindly, stepping over to the side so as to make room for the larger man to pass. "I'm sure Soo-Ling would be happy to see you again."

"On the contrary," Ash snorts, "I bet he'd beat my ass as soon as he catches sight of my face. I wouldn't be surprised if Sing's still got a grudge against me after everything I made him go through."

"My husband can be pretty petty like that, yeah," Akira admits jokingly with a laugh. The sound of it chimes like bells against the frigid air. "Then, if you'd like, I can pass on a message for you instead. Is there anything you want me to let him know?"

"Tell him…" the reaper begins, his voice trailing off as he pauses to reconsider his prospects. Akira looks up to face him with a thoughtful expression. The reaper looks back at her when he speaks, a low voice calm and coupled with the quiet tenderness of grateful affection.

"Tell him that I met Shorter, and that he's glad to have had him as his successor," the blond conveys to her at last, a genuine fondness washing over his features as he wraps himself in memories of old and their halcyon days. "That he's sorry he couldn't have been around longer to guide him more, but that he doesn't ever regret having chosen him because he was the greatest boss Chinatown has ever had. And that he's proud of him, and all that he's done for their people."

"And you?" Akira asks, head cocking to the side as she leans on the doorframe of her home. "What about you, Ash?"

"Tell him...Tell him I say thank you," he confesses, jade green eyes softening in the moment that he returns her gaze. "Thank you for taking care of Eiji, all this time."

"Will do," she smiles back at him knowingly. Her face is peaceful, serene. "Hey, Ash?"

"Yes?"

"I think I can also speak on Soo-Ling's behalf when I say this, but…thank you, too."

He blinks.

"What for?" the reaper asks, visibly perplexed, brows furrowed in confusion. In the background, the street lamp flickers, once, overhead.

"For loving him, still," Akira whispers with the most honest of smiles, "even after all this time."

Eiji returns with puffy eyes and a dampness over his shoulder. Akira dabs at it with the corner fabric of her shawl, laughing off how a softie her husband often tends to be, before she pulls him back into one last hug. Eiji returns the gesture, and nobody makes an effort to point out the redness that sting at Akira's eyes when she finally pulls away.

_Itterasshai, _she mumbles as she bids them her farewells. _Have a safe trip._

They exchange their thanks while Eiji dons his jacket and puts on his shoes. The two boys leave the Sing household with a final wave goodbye.

(Later, as Akira watches the two walk back down the streets of Ni-chome, she doesn't miss the way that Ash sticks closely by Eiji's side – a calm smile on his face and a certain lightness in his step.)

§§

"So is this the end?" Eiji asks him as they return to the realm of The Times. The boys hover in the midst of pools of memory, two aimless souls wandering at the heart of the skies. "What happens next?"

"I return your soul to the higher gods of the living realm," the reaper says in response to his query, the tone of his speech reading off like a script well-rehearsed, "and you get to be reborn."

"And you?" Eiji wonders aloud, his curious voice a solemn echo that ripples through their skies. "What about you, Shinigami-san?"

"What about me?"

"Will you be stuck here forever?"

The reaper answers him with a small shake of his head. "I have ten more souls to deliver before I can go back to that world."

"Ten doesn't seem so large a number," Eiji tells him with a smile. His russet eyes glow iridescent against the skies, his tone soft and comforting and ever so gentle. His voice is a panacea, a cure to any ailment.

"Hey, Shinigami-san?" Eiji calls out to him.

"Hm?"

"This was our final stop on my journey, right?"

"Yes, and what of it?"

"I think...I have one more place I want to go to after all."

The reaper lets out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry, Eiji, but I told you so earlier. I can't undo any of our previous trips, nor give you an extra free pass. You should have thought of this before you–"

"Shh!" the Japanese cuts the blond off. "Don't worry," he tells him, as he guides the other to his feet. "We're at the right time."

Eiji guides the reaper in his steps, adept with his feet as they make their way past the labyrinth of The Times. The two boys change course as they make their way east, landing at a pool that mirrors the pale pink of twilight skies.

"This is the Izumo Taisha Shrine," Eiji declares proudly at the end of the hall, his hand raised to guide the reaper's stare. The blond boy peers closer into the near-crystal basin. There's a temple reflected in its waters, almost majestic in its reverence, with copper-colored _torii _and the straw _shimenawa_ ropes woven thickly at the entryway.

"Where I live," Eiji explains, "the gods come and gather here in the autumn of every year, in a banquet hosted by _Okuninushi-no-okami_. Okuninushi_-_sama is the god of unions and marriage. He binds people to their soulmates and blesses the connections we have with one another."

_This will have to do, _the older boy mutters under his breath as he bows his head twice and claps his hands four times in prayer. He bows once more at the end, sparing a final glance towards the heavens, and the reaper stands wordlessly by his side as he watches the Japanese conduct his ritual.

When he finishes, he turns his attention back to blond. His expression softens, albeit slightly.

"I wanted to give them my thanks for having you come to fetch me," Eiji confesses with a grateful smile. There's an upward tug of his lips and a flicker of contentment in his bright brown eyes. "And to pray for your happiness even when the time comes that I'll be gone."

Eiji takes the reaper's hands in his, pressing a quick kiss against his knuckles, the warmth of his touch welcome and reassuring.

"Goodbye, Ash," he murmurs, "I'll wait for you in the next life."

"But I'm not Ash," the reaper insists as he squirms out of the other's grasp. "The gods made me look like this but I'm just the reaper, remember? We're simply made to take on the forms of your most beloved."

"You're always dead calm when you lie," Eiji replies as he looks straight back at the other to meet his gaze, a plaintive look painted vividly in a pair of weary eyes. "Is it really so difficult for you to be honest with me, even at the last of my times?"

There's an immeasurable depth that stretches out between them, a vast expanse of emotion, and Eiji takes this moment as a chance to shrink the distance between their lips.

(Forever is a word that is too long to say, but for Ash, Eiji thinks, he would give him the world. So he swears it to the gods, even if it may be before a mere reflection of the deities in a makeshift memory pool, that he'll promise him this: always. _Always_.

_I will always be with you._)

And then Eiji lets go, a momentary reprieve for the blond to part ways so as to take a breath. But the taste of him remains, cold and bitter against the reaper's tongue, the ghost of his touch still lingering in the aftermath.

"I've always wanted to do that," Eiji says, as he breaks off the kiss with a laugh. The corner of his eyes crinkle as he turns to him, features washing over with the look of something fond.

"Ei–"

"I've missed you, you know."

"_Eiji_," Ash calls out to him past the tremble in his voice, his name like a mantra mumbled hoarsely under the reaper's grateful breaths. "Eiji. Eiji. Eiji."

Ash wraps his arms around Eiji as he buries his face in the crook of the older boy's neck. The reaper's heart races like a persistent drumming in the tight cave of his chest, a heated ringing in the hollows of his ears, but he doesn't complain. His mind is running fast and he can think of nothing else. It's a pleasant sensation; it makes him feel _alive_.

Still, he cries.

"There's no need for you to hold on to the ghost of me," Ash whispers to him in a broken voice, a choked sob heavy with sorrow. "There's no need for me to hold you back." His voice is thick with a longing to return to the days of their past, to turn back time and bring back the things that the fates had, from them, once taken away. An attempt at repentance. A plea for forgiveness.

"Nonsense, you silly American," Eiji chides the boy in return. Gingerly, he raises a hand to rub gentle circles down the other's back. "You know that I could never leave you alone."

The reaper holds his soul close as the older boy's legs give way to the summons of the gods, limbs turning into mist as the seconds tick on slowly into the space. Eiji looks at him in these moments, with their foreheads pressed together, a hopeful smile falling on his face.

"Remember, Ash," Eiji swears to him at the end of The Times, "my soul is always with you."

Eiji kisses him once more, hesitant and chaste, a gentle question that lilts on his lips and waits ever patient for the other boy to allow him entry. He cradles the other boy's jaw gently in his palms, like a featherweight caress, careful in the way one would hold the whole universe in his hands. Ash lets him in, all ardent breaths and small mercies and a soul yearning desperate for the touch of another.

(His lips leave starlight in their wake.)

Ash watches Eiji's soul in the fleeting moments before he goes, brilliant bursts of color and a warmth that envelops him in a tender hold. Then, the older boy pulls him close, a mumbled secret whispered quickly into the other's ear, before his figure fades into the oblivion – a quiet ripple that blurs into the blue of their horizon and mixes deep within the waters of The Times.

Then, just like that, he is gone.

In the silence of The Times, the reaper stands alone. His golden hair sways with the breeze, the sound of the wind whipping against his ears, as his figure remains stark still against the bursting pools of the vanishing multiverse. There's the echo of a memory that plays on in his mind, aged for less than a second – only a fraction of a heartbeat as old.

The reaper closes his eyes; Ash thinks of Eiji, and at last, he smiles.

He sends a prayer to the skies.

§§

_See you later, my soulmate._

* * *

many thanks to you all for reading, i hope you enjoyed this humble piece of mine :)


End file.
